


We Had the Stars, You and I

by leontina (Leontina), MrHappysShoes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrHappysShoes/pseuds/MrHappysShoes
Summary: When Harry is dragged along to Italy for his uncle's business trip, he doesn't expect to enjoy himself that much. That's until he meets Draco, a handsome, somewhat arrogant older man, and finds himself falling for him





	We Had the Stars, You and I

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Muggle AU, age difference (18/24), anal sex, first time, mentions of neglectful Dursleys  
**Author's Notes: ** I loved this movie from the first moment I saw it, and thought it would make the perfect Drarry story! Hope you all enjoy this :)  
**Disclaimer: **All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

**xXx**

The view of the Italian countryside outside of the window was a vast sight different to England. Grey cities and flat greenery were gone, replaced with rolling hills and terracotta towns. The sun was shining brightly, bathing the wing of the plane in orange light.

Italy looked beautiful, and it was a shame he had to experience it with the Dursleys in tow. A potential business associate of his uncle’s, Lucius Malfoy, had invited Vernon and his family to his summer villa near Lake Como to talk business--and flash his wealth, Harry assumed. 

Lucius--or more likely the person he had paid to do it for him--had done their research on the Dursley family well, and had sent four tickets with Harry included in the invite. Vernon and Petunia couldn’t think of a good enough reason to leave Harry behind without it looking bad on them, so they’d reluctantly allowed him along. 

Harry was grateful that he was finally going on holiday, and not just being left behind with batty old Mrs Figg, but his family were definitely at the bottom of his list of people he’d choose to go on holiday with. 

Still, he was planning on moving out as soon as he earned enough money, and it would be nice to spend some quality time with them before he left for good. Whether the holiday would allow him to appreciate them, or prove to him why he needed to leave as soon as he could remained to be seen, but Harry reckoned it would be the latter. 

He paused his walkman when he faintly heard the garbled words of an announcement over the loudspeaker, and was just in time to catch the captain telling them that they’d be landing soon, and to fasten their seatbelts and put away electronics and trays. 

Harry’s tray was still covered in empty sweet wrappers and crisp packets that Dudley hadn’t wanted to hold onto, so he pushed the rubbish into his rucksack along with his walkman. He fastened his seatbelt as the sign for it flashed above him, and looked back out of the window as they began to descend. 

He had never flown before, but Harry found he quite enjoyed it. The jolt in his stomach when the plane had first left the ground at Gatwick had been thrilling, and looking down at the tiny world below had made him feel like he a god admiring his creation. It was truly a shame that humans weren’t able to fly unaided.

The plane bounced as it landed on the runway, and Vernon let out a grunt of discomfort. Harry felt almost sad that they were back on land now and wondered idly if he should look into becoming a pilot--as if he could ever afford the training. 

His aunt and uncle were some of the first out of their seats as soon as the seatbelt sign went off, standing in the aisle and blocking other passengers without a care. It was lucky Lucius had sprung for first class, because there were less people to glare at them. 

“Hurry up, Boy,” Vernon snapped, shooting Harry an impatient look. “I want to get off this damn plane and I don’t have time for you to dawdle.”

An old lady and her husband gave Harry a sympathetic smile, and gestured for him to go ahead of them. Harry double-checked he hadn’t left anything behind before begrudgingly following his family as they barged their way to the exit. 

The very moment he stepped through the plane door, Harry was hit by a wave of heat. The air was heavy with warmth, but not overbearing, and Harry allowed himself a moment to simply welcome the sensation. 

By the time they reached the bottom of the steps, Vernon was red-faced and sweating, and he glared at Harry as if it was his fault. He hustled Harry, Petunia, and Dudley into Milan Airport, where they went through the rigmarole of passport and security checks, followed by waiting for their suitcases. Finally everything was sorted and they were able to make their way into the entrance lounge, where a man in a suit was waiting for them with a sign reading ‘_Dursley_’ on it.

The chauffeur led them to a sleek, black Lancia, opening the doors for them. Harry was the only one to say thank you, and the man gave him a nod of his head in response. The interior of the car was flawless, with smooth leather seats, and even with himself, Petunia, and Dudley in the back, there was still enough room to be comfortable. 

Once the chauffeur had loaded their suitcases into the boot, he got into the driver’s seat and set off towards Lake Como. Harry rested his head against the window and closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

**xXx**

The drive from Milan to Lake Como took just over an hour, and by the time they arrived at the villa the sun was beginning to set.

The villa had yellow walls, and an orange tiled roof. The windows looked wide and had wooden shutters, and looked out--from the front of the villa--onto a pebbled courtyard and large water fountain. The sound of flowing water and chirping crickets made Harry feel a world away from home. 

While the chauffeur retrieved their luggage from the boot of the car, the front door of the villa opened and a tall, handsome couple stepped out. Both were blonde, and dressed in elegant black clothes which fitted their slender forms perfectly. The woman had a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck, while the man carried a black cane with a silver snake’s head attached to the top. 

Petunia flattened her hair idly, and Vernon puffed out his chest. 

“Remember,” Vernon said through gritted teeth, shooting Harry a sideways glare. “If you mess this up for us in any way, you will live to regret it. Do you understand me, Boy?”

Harry sighed and nodded. His uncle had threatened Harry numerous times about behaving, and though he thought it might be fun to ruin his uncle’s chances, Harry didn’t much fancy dealing with the wrath that would be aimed his way as a result. 

The Malfoy family had a lot of money, so much that they were unafraid to show it off. Harry knew that they made that money through their luxury hotel chain, and wanted to use Vernon’s company, Grunnings, to provide the materials for their new hotel sites. It would certainly be the biggest financial score of Vernon’s company. 

“Hello,” Lucius greeted with a polite smile. “I hope you had a pleasant journey, and I’m pleased you’ve all been able to join us. Family is the most important thing, no?”

Vernon nodded, giving Petunia and Dudley a fond look. 

“This is my wife, Petunia, and son, Dudley. And uh, this is my nephew, Harry. We adopted him after his parents died; we’re his only family so it wouldn’t have been right to leave him in foster care.”

“Very admirable,” Lucius said. Harry had to hold back his laughter; the only reason his aunt and uncle had taken him in was because the powerful lawyer, Dumbledore, had seen to it. “May I introduce my wife, Narcissa. Our son, Draco, will be joining us tomorrow. How old are you boys? Draco is perhaps only a few years older than you at most.”

“Eighteen, both of us,” Harry answered, to save Dudley having to do any maths. “I look forward to meeting Draco.”

“He’ll be delighted to meet you too, I’m sure,” Narcissa said, speaking up for the first time. She gave Harry a look he couldn’t decipher the meaning of. “We’ll give you a proper tour of the villa and the grounds tomorrow, but I imagine you’re all worn out from your travels. Our butler, Dobby, shall show you to your rooms, and will retrieve you in an hour for a light supper.”

Lucius snapped his fingers, and a butler Harry hadn’t previously noticed came forwards. The butler was dressed impeccably, in a black suit with a bow tie and white gloves, but under his trousers Harry could just see a hint of mismatched socks, one bright green and the other a vibrant orange. 

Dobby smiled at them, and beckoned them to follow him. The chauffeur passed Dobby two of the suitcases, while he carried the remaining two himself. 

Vernon and Petunia were given a large suite, while Dudley was in a smaller, through still decently sized room. Dudley scrunched his nose in distaste as he quickly realised there was no television in his room. None of them said a word to Dobby, aside from his uncle snapping at him to be careful with their luggage. 

“And here is your room,” Dobby said to Harry, opening the door on a mid-sized room. It was tastefully decorated, with hardwood floors and mahogany furnishings. The window was large, and presumably looked out onto the garden, though it was too dark to see anything out of it now. “I’m afraid you’ll be sharing your bathroom with Draco; I hope that won’t be an inconvenience for you.”

“No, it’s no bother at all. Thank you, Dobby.” Harry gave him a kind smile. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Anything, Sir.”

“Just call me Harry; there’s no need to call me ‘sir’. But I was curious as to how you got the name Dobby. It’s not a name I’ve heard before.”

Dobby looked amused. “I’m named Toby Dobbington, but Dobby is a nickname that stuck. My best friend is Winkerman, but we all call her Winky, so I think I got off lucky. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Harry thanked Dobby again, and settled down in his new room.

**xXx**

Breakfast was a simple but tasty affair; fresh fruit and baked bread, with rich coffee and refreshing orange juice. Harry and his aunt were satisfied, but Vernon and Dudley looked especially put out by the lack of meat. Dudley would have complained to the hosts, had he not been ordered to be on his best behaviour. It looked like Dudley was struggling to stick to that promise as he pushed grapes around his plate, with a scowl on his face.

Once breakfast was over, Harry’s time was his own. Lucius and Vernon had business to discuss, and Petunia and Dudley were relaxing by the swimming pool. Harry would have gone himself, but he didn’t much fancy Dudley trying to lightly drown him by calling it a game.

The weather was too glorious to stay inside, so he retrieved a book from his room which he could read outside. He chose his very battered copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_. The spine was cracked, and some of the pages loose or torn, but that book had been a lifeline when he’d been a lonely little boy. He’d read the sequels as soon as he was old enough to stay out on his own and go to the library, but The Fellowship had a special place in his heart. 

The garden of the villa was fairly large, with lush green grass and tall cypress trees. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers which bordered the garden in a range of stunning, vibrant colours. 

Harry chose to take a seat under an oak tree, resting his back against the trunk. The leaves gave a pleasant amount of shade and carried a warm breeze. 

He was well into his reading when he became aware of a figure standing over him. He glanced up, and instantly felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sight of the handsome stranger. 

The man could only be the Malfoy son, because he had the customary white-blond hair, the straight, sharp nose of his father, and the steel grey eyes of his mother. He was tall and lean, and carried himself with an easy confidence and grace. 

“Hello, you must be from the Dursley party. My name’s Draco, I’m Lucius’ son.”

Draco didn’t offer his hand, but Harry clambered to his feet anyway so that he didn’t appear rude. He barely came up to Draco’s shoulder, and Harry didn’t consider himself short by any means. 

“I’m Harry,” he said, after he realised Draco was still waiting for his returned introduction. “Although I’m a Potter, not a Dursley. I’m related to them through my aunt, Petunia.”

Draco tilted his head in consideration. “What are you reading?” he asked, after an uncomfortable silence passed between them. 

“Lord of the Rings,” Harry said, showing Draco the cover. Draco scoffed, and Harry instantly found himself defensive. “What?”

“Nothing,” Draco said, shaking his head and sounding faintly amused. “I just find fantasy worlds a little _airy-fairy_ for my liking.”

“They’re supposed to be! It’s exciting to be able to escape from the real world and lose yourself in a world of magic and wonder. Oh, what are you reading then?”

Harry had been too busy looking at Draco’s face to realise that he was also holding a book. 

“The Iliad. I’m doing my Doctorate’s thesis on homosexuality in ancient times, and the relatioship between Achilles and Patroclus is a particular favourite of mine. I came here to read it, only to find you in my spot, so I’d like to request you move, please.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t know where to begin--the promise that Draco was gay, because really, how many straight people would do a thesis on homosexuality, or the fact that he’d just been kicked out of his reading spot. 

“You’re joking, right? You really want me to move?”

Draco nodded impatiently. “Yes, I don’t intend to give up my things simply because you’re a guest here. My father might pretend to be a gracious host, but I won’t give in to that illusion.”

Harry smiled despite himself. “You’re rude, but it’s refreshing. Take your spot, then, I’ll find somewhere else; not like this garden’s lacking in nice places to sit.”

“That’s a good lad,” Draco said, gracefully taking a seat in Harry’s previous spot, and looking rather smug about it. “I think I might like you, Harry, and I don’t tell people things like that lightly. Now get away from my tree, before I change my mind.”

**xXx**

Lucius and Narcissa, despite their efforts to appear as humble, generous hosts, were still filthy rich and had the appropriate attitude to go along with it. It was obvious in the careful way they dressed themselves--simple, but stylish and in clearly expensive materials--their smooth, crisp accents, and the clipped way they spoke to their staff.

Draco was their only son, and they both appeared to be incredibly proud of him. Draco had arrived at dinner that night with a pretty girl on his arm, who introduced herself as Pansy. Pansy wore all black, like her hair, and the only splash of colour on her was the bright red of her lipstick. The heels she wore were so high she was almost as tall as Draco in them, and her cleavage was ample, displayed blatantly in the cut of her dress. Dudley’s eyes had boggled as he noticed it for the first time, and hadn’t looked away since. 

Harry also found himself watching Pansy through most of the meal, but it was for entirely different reasons. Pansy was gorgeous, had a witty sense of humour, and appeared intelligent, and Harry hated her for it. It wasn’t even the poor woman’s fault, and she’d done nothing wrong aside from being close to Draco. 

The two of them shared in-jokes and glances with each other almost constantly, and Harry found himself seething with jealousy. It was ridiculous given that not only was Harry sure that Draco was gay, it wasn’t even as though he had a chance with Draco himself. He was six years younger than Draco, and what would Draco want with an eighteen-year-old stuck living with his aunt and uncle, while he tried to save money from his crappy, minimum wage job? 

Lucius and Narcissa had spent much of the meal boasting of Draco’s many achievements throughout his life, so at least it wouldn’t look odd that Harry was keeping his attention focused on him. 

“Draco came top of his class at Cambridge,” Lucius said, giving his son a proud smile. “A first in Classics, a distinction in his Masters, and now he’s completing a Doctorate. Narcissa and I admire his efforts ever so much. Are your boys at university, Vernon?”

Vernon let out a grunt of displeasure at the concept of Harry being considered one of his ‘boys’. 

“Our Dudley could have gone to university if he’d wanted,” Vernon said. It was a complete lie, as Dudley put no effort into school and it showed in his grades. “He’s an excellent sportsman though, a rugby player and a boxer, and he’s working his way up in competitive boxing. Last year he won the heavyweight champions for his age group.”

“And you, Harry?” Narcissa asked kindly, not forgetting Harry even though his uncle tried his best to. 

“I work in a coffee shop,” Harry said.

“Only for his gap year,” Vernon added hastily, shooting Harry a nasty glare. “He’s earning himself some money before he goes to university next year, aren’t you, B-Harry?”

Harry had no intention to go to university, but he figured he might as well play along with his uncle’s game so he wouldn’t suffer his wrath. 

“Yes, I’d like to study music.”

Narcissa smiled and clapped her hands together in delight. “What do you play? Draco and I play violin, piano, and flute, and Lucius pretends he’s not musically inclined but he’s ever so talented at the harp.”

“I play guitar,” Harry said, aware all at once of Draco’s steely grey gaze that was focused intently on him now. “I taught myself how to play a few years ago.”

“We’ll have to play together one day,” Draco said, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Harry. “Would you like to?”

“Y-yes,” Harry stammered, cursing inwardly at his inability to cope with the attention of an attractive man. “I’d like that.”

Draco looked pleased. “Excellent. I look forward to it.”

**xXx**

Pansy and Draco had gone out somewhere after dinner, while Harry was forced to join in a game of charades with his family and their hosts. Harry had been paired with Dudley, who was absolutely horrific at the game--Vernon and Petunia tried to blame it on tiredness from jetlag. Harry was pretty sure that Lucius and Narcissa knew that a time difference of one hour wasn’t enough to cause behaviour-altering jetlag, but they were kind enough to play along.

Harry was pleased when his uncle sent him to bed, regardless of the fact it made him seem like a naughty child who needed sleep to stave off his hyperactivity. Harry’s aunt and uncle often pretended he was badly behaved or troubled, and he was used to it. He was just glad to be away from the awkward group game. 

It was too early to sleep, and the sticky, humid air would have made it nearly impossible anyway. The ceiling fan gave little relief, and Harry stripped down to his boxers, lying on top of his covers with a book in hand. 

He’d made it a few chapters in when he heard the door to the room next door creak open, followed by voices. Draco was back home, and it appeared he’d brought Pansy with him. 

Harry’s book fell to his side, forgotten, as he strained to hear what the pair were talking about. Their voices were too low to pick up on anything solid, however, and though he tried to return his attention to his book, he couldn’t focus on it for his curiosity taking over. 

He stood from the bed, and made his way as quietly as he could across the room. He was quite adept at sneaking around usually, but not only was he in a house he didn’t know, it was an old building that creaked simply from being looked at. 

Still, Draco and Pansy’s conversation hadn’t halted, so Harry stopped in front of the door that adjoined his room to Draco’s, and pressed his ear against it so that he could hear better. 

“The cut of the fabric in Blaise’s ivory dress was stunning, don’t you think?” Pansy was saying. “I’m perhaps too busty to wear such a thing, but Daphne pulled it off beautifully.”

“Daphne pulls off anything beautifully, and Astoria too. It’s no wonder so many envy you, having such a gorgeous girlfriend,” Draco said. “Is it true Blaise is including the two of you in his Pride show?”

So Pansy had a girlfriend? That was good to know, and meant Harry no longer had to glare at the poor woman every time he saw her with Draco. Although Harry had no right to glare at her anyway, given that he had no right to Draco or any kind of ownership over him. Harry was simply a teenage boy with a crush on an older man, and he’d have to endure the appropriate heartache that went along with that. 

He stayed listening at the door simply out of curiosity. Draco and Pansy were discussing a friend’s fashion show, and though Harry had no interest at all in fashion, he found himself enjoying the sound of Draco’s smooth voice. 

After Pansy left, Harry barely had a moment to move away from the door when it opened widely, sending him stumbling to the floor. He hissed as his elbows scraped against the wood, and he hugged his knees to his chest as he glared up at Draco, trying to appear nonchalant. 

“Can I help you? Did nobody tell you it’s polite to knock?”

“Did nobody tell you it was rude to eavesdrop?” Draco countered, and Harry felt his face flush. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Harry said quickly. “I was doing yoga and using the door for balance. Thanks for ruining that and knocking me to the floor, by the way.”

“Yoga, hmm? I thought yoga taught balance and grace, enough that you wouldn’t need a door for support?”

“Yes, well, I’m not very good at it,” Harry huffed. 

Draco smirked. “Clearly. Tell me, Harry, what do you think to Pansy?”

Harry tilted his head, confused at the reason for the question. 

“Er, she seems nice, I guess. I haven’t known her long enough to make a judgement.”

“No, I mean do you find her attractive?” Draco asked, stressing the last word. 

“She’s, uh, not my type,” Harry said, and his blush deepened as he continued to look up somebody who was _exactly_ his type. “I’m pretty sure my cousin fancies her though, if she’s after a younger man.”

Draco gave Harry a wicked grin. “That little perv would be eaten alive by Pansy. As for me, I’m not quite so cruel. I apologise for disturbing your yoga, Harry, I’ll leave you to get back to it. Goodnight.”

Harry didn’t move from the floor for a long time.

**xXx**

“Boy! Boy! Don’t you listen when I’m talking to you?!”

Harry heard the shouting as the song ended, so he pressed pause on his walkman and turned to face his glaring aunt.

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I had headphones in,” Harry said, pulling them out of his ears so Petunia would be able to see.

As expected, she didn’t accept his explanation. “You’re such a rude boy,” she hissed. “I want you to go to the village nearby and pick up some things for Dudders. He’s missing his sugar fix, so he needs sweets and soda. I’ll give you some money for what he wants, but you can either walk or hitchhike there; I’m not giving you anymore than I have to.”

Harry had never stolen money from his aunt and uncle before. Food, yes, but they didn’t know about that, so there was no reason for Harry not to be trusted aside from their general dislike of him. Still, there was no point arguing because Petunia would just yell at him, and then go and fetch Vernon to yell at him some more, and Harry couldn’t be bothered to deal with that. 

He sighed. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Petunia huffed and handed over some Italian coins to him, before leaving without another word. Harry had no idea how to get to the village, so he supposed he’d have to ask one of the Malfoys or one of their staff for directions. He wasn’t stupid enough to hitchhike alone in a foreign country, so he hoped the walk wouldn’t take too long. 

Draco was the first person he saw, writing a letter at the table on the veranda. He looked up when Harry approached and gave him a wry smile. 

“Harry! Going back inside to do more yoga?”

“I did enough last night, thanks,” Harry retorted. “My aunt wants me to go to the village, but I have no idea how to get there. Could you tell me which way to go?”

Draco considered him for a moment. “I’ll take you; we can go by bike. I’m not usually so generous, but I need to post this letter. Find Dobby and ask him to get out mine and my mother’s bike--she’s around your height so you can use hers. I’ll be finished by the time you come back.”

“Great, thanks,” Harry said, and hurried off to find Dobby. 

True to his word, Draco had finished his letter by the time Harry returned. He’d put on a pair of sunglasses and rolled up his sleeves, and Harry noticed for the first time that on Draco’s forearm he had a tattoo of a curled up snake, black with two green spots for eyes the only colour. 

“Nice tattoo,” Harry said. “My uncle things only hooligans and criminals have tattoos, so as soon as I can afford one I’m getting one.”

“Your uncle is a prick,” Draco said simply. “If his materials weren’t so cheap, my father would have kicked him out by now. Don’t tell him that, of course.”

Harry shook his head and smiled. “I’m not stupid. He’d either get angry at the fact and take it out on me, or accuse me of lying, get angry, and take it out on me.”

“Why do you still live with them?” Draco asked as they clambered onto the bikes and began to ride. “If I had a relationship like that with my parents, I’d be long gone.”

“Yes, well you’re rich and I’m not. I’m saving up as much money as I can so I can get my own place, but work doesn’t pay _that_ well, and I have to give half of it to my aunt and uncle for housekeeping.” 

“My family is not without its problems, but I’m thankful I have their love. And though you have questionable taste in books, at least you have a love of reading. Your family don’t strike me as bookish types.”

Harry grinned. “They’re definitely not.”

The road to the village was a pretty one with smooth, unlined concrete bordered by large oak trees and patches of flowers. The air smelled sweet with the flora, and the breeze made the leaves in the trees bristle gently. It was peaceful, and warm, and Harry felt so much more free than when he cycled to work down the hectic streets of Little Whinging. 

“I assume your taste in music is questionable too,” Draco said, shooting Harry a smirk. 

“I like rock and indie,” Harry said. “Let me guess, that’s questionable to you because you tend to listen to Mozart?”

“Vivaldi, actually,” Draco retorted. “Italian composers are among the best in the world.”

“If you say so,” Harry said dryly, as he had absolutely no knowledge about classical music. “Are you Italian then? You sound pretty Britain to me.”

“I was born in France to a French-English family, lived between France, Britain, Italy, Russia, and Hong Kong as a child, but settled in Britain as a teenager when I was sent to boarding school.”

“Eton?” Harry guessed. 

“Morsmordre. Yes, the very exclusive school run by supposed criminal mastermind, Tom Riddle,” Draco added, seeing Harry’s shocked expression. “Riddle’s rumoured out-of-school activities may be terrible, but he’s an excellent scholar and teacher, and it’s thanks to his personal tutoring that I got into Cambridge. My father says you went to Smeltings?”

Harry shook his head. “Dudley did. I went to Stonewall High, the local public school.”

“Yet of the two cousins, you’ve certainly turned out to be the most likeable. Not to say I like you, of course; you’re rather sassy, but there’s also something quite endearing about you.”

Harry found himself flushing at the compliment, back-handed though it was. 

“Ah, we’re nearly to the village,” Draco said. “Allow me to buy your cousin his sweets, and put the money your aunt gave you towards your moving out fund. I’ll give you a little extra, too, so you can buy yourself some limoncello. It’s a traditional drink here in Italy. I trust you know your way back if I leave you now?”

Harry nodded. “Thank you for showing me the way. And for the money--you really don’t have to do that.”

“I think I do. It should be considered a public service, in fact, helping you leave the Dursley household.

That, Harry could agree on.

**xXx**

Harry let out a contented sigh as he settled down against the oak tree. He had _The Fellowship of the Ring_ in one hand, and a tin of limoncello in the other. With Dudley’s sweets dropped off, Harry had the rest of the day to do as he pleased.

Draco had kicked him out of this spot a couple of days prior, but it was definitely the nicest place in the garden, and Draco wasn’t there at that moment. 

The day had gotten hotter since the morning, and was perhaps the most humid it had been since Harry had arrived in Italy. Even the shade of the tree did little to stave off the almost unbearable heat. 

Harry opened the limoncello, the metal pull releasing with a click and a hiss. Though the drink was no longer ice cold, the tart lemon flavour was refreshing. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his book against them, turning the pages with one hand and using the other to sip his drink. 

The weather was too hot for Harry to be able to concentrate on the pages properly, though, and he felt his eyes glazing over. He sighed again and closed his eyes, allowing himself to just _be_.

The next thing Harry knew, he was on his back on the warm grass and there was something soft in front of his face. He blinked, startled, and swiped at the thing in front of him. As he knocked it he realised that it was a hat, and that awareness made him frown--none of his family cared about him enough to offer him protection from the sun which he’d apparently fallen asleep in. 

He sat up, his gaze falling immediately on Draco’s form. Draco was sat where Harry had been previously with a book of his own. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Draco said, without looking away from the page he was on. “Didn’t anyone teach you sun safety?”

“Weren’t we talking earlier about how horrific a job my aunt and uncle have done at guardianing me?” Harry retorted. 

Draco’s lips curled up into a smirk. “True. Now you’re awake, you can kindly leave me in peace.”

“No, I like it here,” Harry said, taking a seat beside Draco. Their arms brushed accidentally, but when Draco didn’t flinch or pull away, Harry pressed against him more insistently. “Besides, you clearly like me enough to let me sleep and protect me from the sun, so my company can’t be that bad.”

“I like you well enough when you’re _asleep_,” Draco said. “That’s how I prefer most people, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, what if I just read my book and stay quiet? That’s almost like me being asleep.”

“Yes, but I doubt your ability to stay quiet,” Draco stated, though he looked like he was fighting a smile. Harry flashed him a grin, and Draco shook his head in defeat. “Fine. Stay. But I won’t be afraid to change my mind if you annoy me.”

“Deal,” Harry said. “Oh, do you-?”

“That doesn’t sound like you being quiet.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless. “I just wanted to know if you want your hat back.”

Draco hesitated for a moment. “No, keep it; it looks good on you. Now shut up or you’re out of here.”

**xXx**

Harry followed the sound of Britney Spears to the kitchen. The air was sweet with the scent of fresh herbs, and Harry inhaled deeply as he stepped into the room.

Dobby was preparing something at the counter, swaying his hips to the music.

“It smells lovely in here,” Harry said, announcing his presence. 

Dobby didn’t jump, or stop his dancing. “Thank you, Harry. We’re having spaghetti carbonara tonight, and the dough for the garlic bread is proving as we speak.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Harry offered. “I’m sure I’m not as good at cooking as you are, but I know my way around a kitchen.”

“That’s very kind of you, Harry, but you don’t have to. Unless you really want to, of course.”

“I really do,” Harry said with a smile, coming up to the counter. “What are you making?”

“Pasta. Pre-made pasta is convenient, yes, but it’s nothing compared to the freshly made kind. 

There was a lot of flour on the counter, with a well in the centre which Dobby was cracking eggs into--cracking them with one hand, Harry noticed with impressiveness. 

“Are you afraid of getting your hands dirty?” Dobby asked. “Using the tips of your fingers mix the egg a bit at a time into the flour until it’s all combined, and then knead it. You have to be quite tough when it comes to kneading, and keep going until the dough feels smooth to the touch.”

Harry did as instructed, working the mixture deftly with his hands. 

“You do this every night?” Harry asked. His arms were already beginning to ache. “You don’t need to hit the gym for a workout.”

“You should meet my grandmother. She has so much upper body strength, and all of it was gained through the kitchen. I don’t use a machine to roll my pasta--I do it the way my grandmother taught me, which is with a rolling pin; that’s more use of your arms.”

“It’s nice you cook the way your grandmother taught you,” Harry said. “I never knew any of my grandparents. Are your family all Italian?”

Dobby shook his head. “My mother’s side is Italian, but my father’s side is British. My father was the butler for Lucius’ father, which is how I came to work for the family.”

“So have you known them most of your life?” Harry asked as Dobby took the finished dough and wrapped it tightly in clingfilm so it could rest for half an hour. 

“Yes, but I didn’t interact with Lucius or Narcissa much until after I became employed by them. I’ve been here long enough to watch Draco grow from a fussy infant into an accomplished young man, though.”

Harry grinned. “Draco’s a fussy adult too, isn’t he? What was he like as a child?”

“He was a sullen little thing. He thought because he was rich he owned the world, and treated other people like he was beneath them. As he became older he thankfully began to realise that the world wasn’t going to give him everything he wanted unless he worked for it, and pushed his focus onto his studies.”

“Yes, Draco was a brat as boy,” came a new voice. 

It was Narcissa, and Harry felt a fleeting moment of guilt for talking about her son until he realised that she was smiling. 

“I never intended to spoil him so, but it was impossible to say no to those big eyes of his,” Narcissa continued fondly. “He was a gorgeous child, and he’s grown into a handsome man. Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”

Harry flushed. “Er, sure, I suppose. Handsome, yes.”

Dobby stifled a snort of laughter. 

Narcissa wasn’t fazed. “It’s about time he settle down. Draco’s invested so much energy into his research that he’s neglected his own happiness in other regards. Still, what would I know? I’m only his mother. Mm, dinner smells delicious, Dobby. Perhaps after we’ve eaten you could play guitar for us, Harry?”

Harry blinked slowly, struggling to keep up with Narcissa’s rapid talk. He felt like she was tricking him into something, but he couldn’t figure out what. 

“Uh, sure, I’d be happy to.”

“Good,” Narcissa said, smiling. “Oh, Draco pretends he listens to classical music and nothing else, but I happen to know he’s a big fan of Guns ‘n’ Roses. See you later, boys.”

**xXx**

Harry chose to take Narcissa’s advice--advice for what, Harry wasn’t sure--and chose to play _Sweet Child O’ Mine_.

Draco’s face was impassive, but Harry could see his fingers twitching to the music against his knee. Their eyes met, and a smile flicked on Draco’s features for just a moment before he forced his face back to neutrality. 

Lucius and Narcissa weren’t bothering to hide their delight, and were smiled on at Harry encouragingly as he played. Vernon, on the other hand, was thrilled for different reasons. Usually he yelled at Harry to ‘stop that racket’, but now it was impressing the people _he_ hoped to impress, he was pretending he was Harry’s biggest supporter. 

“Excellent, excellent,” Lucius declared as the song came to an end. 

Harry rested the guitar gently against his legs, and his gaze met Draco’s again. Draco inclined his head, and his eyes studied Harry so intently that Harry had to look away. He could still feel Draco’s eyes on him, and he felt his face flush under the scrutiny. It felt nice to have Draco’s attention, though. 

“I always knew Harry was talented,” Vernon said, his voice booming. “I sprung for the best music teacher I could find for him, as I couldn’t let that talent go to waste.”

Draco and Narcissa quirked their brows, no doubt remembering that Harry had announced himself self-taught just a couple of night’s prior. Vernon, as custom, clearly hadn’t listened to Harry that night. 

Lucius’ lip curled upwards slightly, as though he, too, caught Vernon’s mistake, but he masked his features into one of indifference as he said, “very commendable of you, Vernon. Shall we adjoin to my sitting room for some brandy?”

“I want to come too!” Dudley said quickly. 

“Of course,” Lucius said, his expression still unreadable. 

“Petunia, would you care to join me on the patio?” Narcissa asked, and Petunia nodded, clearly pleased for the excuse to get away from Harry.

Once they were alone, Draco shook his head and tutted.

“Brandy? That’s not a good sign?”

“No?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t look too pleased when Draco moved to take the seat beside him. 

“My father has a cellar full of the most expensive wines you can imagine, and they’re what he likes to bring out to impress people. By offering your uncle brandy, he’s essentially just playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse.”

“So what? Lucius will string my uncle along for a few days before he turns down the offer? Be honest, you know I won’t be offended on my uncle’s behalf.”

Draco shot him a wicked grin. “No, I imagine he’ll go along with the deal because your uncle is cheap. Only my father will knock the offer down even further, and try and rip him off more along the way. He didn’t get so rich by playing kindly with others. You play guitar very well.”

Rapid change of subject must be a Malfoy speciality. Harry went along with it anyway, to ignore the gnawing guilt he felt for _not_ feeling guilty that his uncle was potentially going to get ripped off. 

“Thank you. I still haven’t heard you play anything. Maybe you could play something now?”

Draco shook his head, and patted Harry’s knee. His hand lingered, squeezing slightly, before he let go. “Not just yet; I’m enjoying being just like this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, smiling. “I am.”

**xXx**

Harry woke up to someone shaking him.

He instinctively groaned and shoved them away, which worked for a moment. Then Harry felt cold water being poured over his face, and he shot up with a cry. 

He scowled as Draco stood over him with a now-empty glass, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Draco said. “I want to go swimming in the lake today.”

“Good for you,” Harry grumbled, wiping water off his face. “Why does that need you to wake me up so rudely?”

“Because you’re coming with me,” Draco said plainly. “You can’t come all the way to Lake Como and not swim in it.” 

“And we can’t go in a couple of hours?” Harry asked. He wasn’t usually so grouchy in the mornings, but he usually wasn’t woken in such an abrupt way.

“And be stuck in the crowds of tourists?” Draco scoffed. “Not likely. Get up; we’re going as soon as you’re dressed.”

Draco retreated to their shared bathroom, but didn’t shut the door behind him. The sight of Draco’s firm arse as he took off his pyjama bottoms was certainly enough to put Harry in a better mood. Although he was still in no hurry to move, at least not until Draco had pulled his swimming briefs.

Harry never would have thought he’d find speedos attractive until he saw Draco in them. Harry’s own swimming trunks were nowhere nearly as revealing, but it meant he didn’t have to wear another pair of shorts on top of them when they left the villa, which would be a wonderful advantage in the Italian heat. 

They cycled down to the lake together, and it was early enough that the country roads were almost empty. Birds sang in the trees, and though the sun wasn’t yet at its peak, it still beat down on them with an intense heat. The air was heavy with warmth, and Harry had to admit that swimming seemed like the perfect activity on such a humid day. 

He was sweating by the time they reached the edge of the lake, and the sparkling water looked incredibly enticing. 

They chained their bikes up to a tree, and shed most of their clothes in a neat pile. This close, Harry could see the fine dusting of blond hair on Draco’s slender but firm thighs, and the briefs were form-fitting enough that Harry could see the bulge where Draco’s dick rested against the material. Harry licked his lips, and forced himself to look back at Draco’s face. Thankfully, Draco had his hand shading his eyes as he looked at over the lake, and hadn’t noticed Harry’s staring or his accompanying blush. 

“After you,” Draco said, gesturing towards the water. 

Harry yelped as he stepped into the lake, surprised by just how chilly the water was. When he turned around, Draco was smirking. 

“Lakes are cold,” he said. “You’ll get used to it.” Then he strode past Harry, wading into the lake as though the temperature didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

Harry followed after him, albeit more slowly so his body could adjust to the cold. As he grew used to it, it certainly made the heat of the sun a lot more bearable. 

He did a little bit of swimming, not wanting to venture too far into the lake, before turning onto his back and floating on top of the water. Draco came up beside him, mimicking Harry’s position. His hair was damp and sticking to his face, and he raised a wet hand to brush it away. In doing so water dripped down his face, and Harry’s gaze followed it down sharp cheekbones to rosy red lips. 

Harry found himself yearning to lick those drops of water away, and he wondered how Draco’s lips would feel against his own. 

Their hands were so close that they were almost touching, with nothing but water between them. Harry’s fingers twitched, longing to take Draco’s hand in his own. 

Harry didn’t think he’d ever felt like this about anyone before, and didn’t know he could even experience emotions so intense. 

“Harry,” Draco said softly. Harry turned to him, and his breath hitched in his throat at the desperation and need etched in Draco’s features. Then, all at once, Draco masked his expression, and gave Harry a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Race you to the shore?”

When Draco immediately dunked Harry under the water to give himself a head start, leaving Harry spluttering and coughing as he came up for air, he wondered why he still didn’t feel any less attracted to Draco. If anything, Draco’s act of pettiness and cheating only furthered Harry’s emotions. 

Maybe he ought to just drown himself in the lake to save dealing with his rapidly-getting-out-of-hand-crush. But first, Harry had to get his own back on Draco by showing him just how fast he could be when he wanted to be. 

The look of horror on Draco’s face when Harry made it to the shore before him was well worth it.

**xXx**

They’d had to return from the lake early after dark clouds had come over, threatening rain. They’re barely made it home when the heavens opened and the rain began to pour, and thankfully got only slightly wet in the process.

The rain hadn’t let off, so Harry found himself sat in one of the lounges reading his book. He was curled up on the windowsill, not minding the damp spray that hit his skin every now and then. Despite the rain, the air was still muggy, and the breeze through the window was welcoming. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Harry smiled; he’d always loved a good storm. His pages fluttered in the wind, and Harry smoothed them down absently. 

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” came a feminine voice from the doorway. 

Harry looked up to see Pansy reclining against the wall, wearing a skin-tight dress that barely covered her thighs. Her high heeled shoes made her legs seem like they went on for miles. She looked good, and Harry hated that Draco was going to see her like that. It made no sense, as Harry was pretty sure that Draco was entirely gay, but jealousy knew no logic. 

“Hey,” Harry said, turning his attention back to his book. 

Pansy wasn’t deterred, and came to hover over him. 

“Would you be a doll and do me a favour?” Pansy asked sweetly. “Can you go and fetch Draco for me? I couldn’t hope to make it upstairs in these heels.”

Harry wondered why she couldn’t just take off her shoes, but he wasn’t rude enough to say so. Instead he sighed and nodded. 

He trudged upstairs, feeling very much like a sullen child. His mood brightened when Draco gave him a dazzling smile when he entered the room. He was seated at his desk, with papers and books scattered all over the surface. He also wasn’t using a pen, Harry noticed, but a quill and inkwell. Harry didn’t know if that was charming or pretentious, and decided it was probably both. 

“Pansy sent me up here to get you,” Harry said. “She said she couldn’t come up herself on account of her heels.”

Draco smirked. “Pansy’s just lazy. She’s been wearing heels for a decade, and could no doubt do a marathon in them. In fact, if she wasn’t so lazy, she could _win_ a marathon in heels. Enjoy dinner without my company tonight; I’m sure my parents will bore you with some needless brag.”

“Are you going out then?” Harry asked, as Draco pulled on a shimmering, sequined jacket from his wardrobe. 

Draco nodded. “My friend Blaise is throwing a party, and as Blaise knows absolutely everybody who’s rich and famous--myself included--I couldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Oh, have fun,” Harry said, raising his hand in a meek wave as Draco left. 

Harry sighed, realising he would be without company for the night. He wondered when he’d become so dependent on Draco’s presence, given he was so used to spending his time alone. 

He was about to leave, when his eyes caught sight of a scrap of black fabric by the side of Draco’s bed. It was the speedo he’d been wearing earlier, Harry realised. 

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Harry crossed the room and picked up the swimming briefs, still damp from the lake earlier. Unable to resist, Harry pressed his nose against the fabric and inhaled deeply, smelling the saltiness of Draco and the crisp aroma of the lake water. 

Harry’s prick twitched with interest beneath his shorts, and he inhaled against the material again. 

He closed his eyes, savouring the moment for as long as he could. His moment was disrupted early when he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. 

He threw the speedos down hastily, just in time for Dobby to walk by. Dobby didn’t notice Harry in Draco’s room, so Harry took the opportunity to creep back into his own room via the bathroom. 

Harry huffed, and tossed and turned on his bed, before hurrying back to fetch the speedos. His prick was aching for attention, and Harry was going to give it what it wanted.

**xXx**

The following morning, Harry wondered if he’d ever be able to be himself again.

He’d spent the entire night moping, missing Draco’s company, and now that Draco was back, he found himself transfixed by his every move. 

Watching Draco eat a peach was positively indecent, the way the juices dripped over his fingers and chin, and the way his tongue darted out of his perfect red lips to lick it clean. 

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him. He admired every line of Draco’s body; the sharp bones in his cheek, the pointed chin, the long, elegant fingers. Draco was so refinidely cut, all over sleek. He was the perfect image of the handsome, rich, aristocrat. 

Harry didn’t even think that most people _would_ consider Draco handsome; his sharp points might be considered too severe for some. But Harry couldn’t get enough of him, especially his regal fingers. Harry wanted them in his mouth, sucking the salty tang of Draco’s skin.

It was ridiculous—_Harry_ was ridiculous. He’d spent the majority of his childhood alone, but he’d carried himself through it with fierce independence. Even when he was able to escape to high school away from Dudley and made close friends, he’d still prided himself on not needing anyone else. 

Now here he was, transfixed on someone who was slightly arrogant and snobby, and finding him charming regardless. 

His gaze finally fell away from Draco when the sound of a roaring motorbike came up the gravel driveway, close to where they were seated at the patio for breakfast. The driver pulled to a stop, stood from the bike, and like a beautiful knight in a movie, removed his helmet and revealed a stunning face. 

The man was tall and slender, but clearly well-muscled, had an absolutely flawless dark complexion, and was wearing clothes that even Harry could tell were expensive and stylish. 

Harry’s uncle pursed his lips in disgruntlement, and Harry wasn’t sure whether his racism, or his hatred of motorbikes, was more prominent in that moment. 

“Blaise!” Draco cried with delight, standing and pulling the man into a hug.

Searing jealousy burst through Harry, more so than anything he had felt regarding Pansy. The way Draco held Blaise was so easy and comfortable, and the smile on Draco’s face was bright enough to light up any room. Clearly Draco liked Blaise a lot, and Harry felt like there was a monster roaring inside of him at the thought. 

“Mother, Father, may I be excused from breakfast early?” Draco asked.

“Does Blaise not want to join us for something to eat?” Narcissa said kindly.

Blaise shook his head. “No, thank you, Mrs Malfoy. I don’t get a figure like this by eating breakfast. Perhaps I can join you one evening instead?”

Great, Blaise was charming in personality too. 

Harry stabbed angrily at his scrambled eggs, and spent the rest of the meal grumpy, and Draco-less.

**xXx**

It was early evening when Draco returned home, and Blaise was with him.

Harry was in his room, cross-legged on the bed listening to his walkman. It was only when the music went silent between songs that he could hear voices in the room next door. He paused his walkman and pulled his earbuds out so that he could hear better.

Blaise said something that Harry couldn’t make out, but the words made Draco laugh. It was a rich sound, and Harry realised he’d never actually heard Draco laugh until now. He got smirks and sniggers, yes, but never carefree laughter. 

He stood up gingerly and padded across the floor until he could press his ear against the door which adjoined their rooms. He’d been caught the last time he had done this, so Harry made sure to try and keep himself as still and silent as possible. 

“You’re positively smitten, Draco!” Blaise was saying. “It’s disgusting, really. I thought you were better than that.”

“Fuck off, Blaise,” Draco answered without malice. “How many people have you fucked this week?”

Blaise let out a short bark of laughter. “I’ve lost count. I’ll have one more to add tonight, at any rate. You should try and pull tonight too. It would do you good, plus the orgasm will probably clear your head and make your thesis easier to write.”

“I orgasm just fine on my own, thank you,” Draco said coldly. “Now alcohol, on the other hand, sounds like it would be a blessing. Fuck off downstairs so I can change, unless you’re a bigger pervert than I thought you were.”

“And see your pale arse? No thank you,” Blaise scoffed, and Draco laughed again.

So Blaise and Draco might not have a thing, but Draco had a thing for _someone_. And that someone seemed liked somebody out of reach if Blaise was so eager for his friend to move on. Harry’s gut twisted in jealousy again. 

A few seconds later a door clicked--probably Blaise leaving--and then the handle of the door Harry was leaning against began to rattle. 

Harry jumped into action, leaping back until he was on the edge of his bed, and grabbing a book which was thankfully within arms reach. 

When Draco entered, Harry hoped he looked casual and comfortable, and not like he’d just been eavesdropping again. 

“Blaise and I are going into town for drinks tonight,” Draco said, leaning against the doorframe with an elegant grace. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, sure,” Harry said, not having expected an invite. “Does Blaise not mind?”

Draco shook his head and smirked. “No, Blaise doesn’t care who’s there as long as he gets alcohol and sex as soon as he can. Get ready now because we’re leaving soon. Oh, by the way, Harry; your book is upside down. Nice attempt at a save though.”

Harry flushed.

**xXx**

Bright blue lights hung overhead, strung up on the canopy that covered the patio of the bar. The air was sticky with humidity and heavy with the scent of cigarettes. The chairs and tables were made of flimsy plastic, not the kind of place that Harry could imagine Draco enjoying being, but it appeared half the town was at the bar that night.

Some of them stood around smoking, others chatting at tables, while others danced and groped one another on the courtyard that doubled as a dancefloor. Harry sat at a table on his own, watching jealously as Blaise and Draco danced together. 

Even though their earlier conversation made it seem like Blaise and Draco had no romantic or sexual interest in one another, it still made Harry’s stomach twist to see Draco’s body moving so sensually against another man who wasn’t Harry. 

Draco’s cheeks were pink from the warmth and the alcohol, and his fringe was matted against his slick forehead. His hips swayed against Blaise’s, and Harry wanted Draco so much in that movement. He was half-hard just watching Draco, and a little dizzy from the force of his desire. 

He swallowed heavily, and lifted his glass from the table. It struggled to move at first, the sticky table trying to hold his glass down. Blaise had chosen their drinks for them, and had gone for cocktails all round. It was fruity and sugary, and barely tasted of alcohol, and Harry was beginning to think it was stronger than he realised as the blinking lights were beginning to merge into one blur, and the world seemed to be swaying a little bit. 

“Buonasera, bellissimo,” a voice said beside Harry. Harry looked to see an admittedly attractive man, with tan skin, deep chocolate eyes, and an athletic figure. 

“Hi,” Harry said half-heartedly. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“Ah, you’re Britain?” the man asked in accented English. “I am Francesco. Do you wish to dance with me? You are very beautiful.”

Harry’s gaze darted to Draco again, and then back to the man. Francesco was indeed very attractive, and maybe dancing with him would catch Draco’s attention. Harry thought it would be even better if he could make Draco jealous by dancing with another man. 

“Yes, I’d like to dance with you,” Harry said with a smile. 

Francesco led Harry over to the dancefloor by the hand. The song that had just been playing ended, and Aha’s _Take on Me_ began in its place. 

Francesco grasped Harry’s hips and pulled him flush against him so that they were front to back, and Harry could feel Francesco’s dick stirring against Harry’s back. Harry didn’t intend on going any further with him, no matter how handsome he was, so he tried not to grind too enthusiastically against him. 

Harry looked for Draco in the crowd and found him easily. Draco’s eyes locked with Harry’s, and refused to look away. Blaise was making eyes at some pretty girl at the bar, and Francesco didn’t show any sign that he knew Harry was focused on someone else. 

Draco’s look was so intense that Harry felt like he needed to look away, but he didn’t dare. Francesco was murmuring something, but Harry paid him no attention. He pushed his hips back against him, but it wasn’t for Francesco’s sake, but Draco’s. 

When the song ended, Harry couldn’t take it anymore and made his excuses to Francesco before returning to his table. Watching Draco just hurt too much. 

He ordered a pitcher of the cocktail that Blaise had got him before, and decided to drown his sorrows in that.

**xXx**

Harry awoke the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth. His head was pounding, and he scowled when the sunlight creeping through the gap in the curtains burned his eyes.

He groaned and flipped over, burying his face in his pillow. He must have drifted off again, because the next time he opened his eyes the clock read 3pm. Thankfully he felt much better, although the pain in his head still lingered. 

After taking some painkillers, Harry had a quick shower and pulled on his clothes from the day prior, too lazy to find fresh ones. When he left his room he ran into Dobby, whose lips quirked at the sight of Harry. 

“Needed a lie-in, did you?” Dobby teased. “The others have gone to Bergamo. Narcissa tried to wake you, but you were dead to the world.”

Harry felt his face flush in embarrassment. “Did Draco go too?”

He hoped he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. 

Dobby smiled and shook his head. “No, he chose to stay behind. He’s in a private orchard by the lake, if you want to find him. I’ll give you directions.”

Harry thanked Dobby, and took the hastily drawn map with him as he went to fetch Narcissa’s bike. Dobby, it turned out, was rather hopeless at direction-giving and map-drawing, and Harry managed to get hopelessly lost. 

The air was already beginning to cool as the afternoon dawned on, and he just about ready to ride around yelling Draco’s name, when he spied a familiar bike chained to a rustic gate. 

The gate creaked as Harry pushed it open and stepped into a small orchard lined with rows and rows of trees. Beautiful looking orange peaches were nestled amongst the green leaves, and Harry couldn’t resist taking one. He bit into it, savouring the sweet taste bursting on his tongue as he looked for Draco. 

He finally found him right at the end of the orchard, laying at the spot where the grass faded into the lake. Across the water were rocky hills dotted with terracotta houses. The lake water made a gentle splashing sound as it rocked onto the shore, carrying tiny pebbles with it. 

Draco didn’t say anything or even acknowledge Harry’s presence, even as Harry laid down beside him. 

Harry turned his head to look at Draco, studying the sharp lines of his profile. He bit his lip, and reached his hand out to touch Draco’s. 

Draco turned to look at him then, the black of his pupils blown wide. His gaze dropped to Harry’s mouth as he licked his own lips hungrily. 

“Draco-” Harry began softly. 

“Don’t,” Draco interrupted. “You’re young, Harry, you don’t know what you want.”

“My age doesn’t mean anything,” Harry said hotly. “I’m old enough to decide who I want, and who I want is you.”

Draco sneered. “Prove it then. Prove you’re not just some little boy with a silly crush.”

Harry grinned, moving until he was straddling Draco’s hips. It felt so _good_ to have a hard body beneath his. He rested his hands against Draco’s chest, breathing in deeply as he felt the study thrum of Draco’s heartbeat against his fingers.

“Is it too real for you now?” Draco asked softly, his voice carrying just a hint of fear. He hid it well, but Harry could hear that subtle shakiness to his tone. 

“No, I’m just making sure I remember this forever,” Harry answered, his voice just as soft. He lowered his head, feeling his hair fall forwards to tickle his skin. He paused just above Draco’s mouth, heart pounding in his chest as he realised he was about to have his first ever kiss, with a man far too handsome for his own good. It felt like a fantasy, or a dream, and he could scarcely believe it was happening. 

Draco’s hands moved to grasp Harry’s hips, but he made no further move to initiate the kiss. Well, he had asked Harry to prove himself, and Harry wasn’t a coward. 

He closed the gap between them, his lips meeting Draco’s at last. He kissed him slowly, tentatively, tasting Draco’s sweetness with his tongue. Draco allowed Harry to explore for a few moments before he began kissing back with fierceness, gnawing at Harry’s lower lip. Harry gasped, allowing Draco’s tongue to enter his mouth. 

Harry could feel his dick growing hard, and he ground against Draco as his confidence grew, moving his own tongue against Draco’s with just as much hunger. 

They finally broke apart for air, and Draco’s lips were flushed red and slick. 

“I shouldn’t want you so much, but I do,” Draco breathed. “I never claimed to be a good man, though, so what does it matter if you’re willing?”

“So willing,” Harry said. “So very damn willing.”

“Good,” Draco purred, eyes flashing before he flipped them over. He bracketed Harry’s head with his hands as he leered down at him. “Then let’s waste no more time,” he said, as he leaned down to kiss Harry once more.

**xXx**

The loft floor was grimy, and the windows dusty. The air was unbearingly hot, the perspiration it caused making Harry’s glasses slip down his nose no matter how much he pushed them up. None of that mattered, though, because he was wrapped in Draco’s arms and there was nowhere else that he’d rather be.

He grew frustrated with his glasses and eventually took them off and tossed them aside with a growl, before returning to his frenzied kissing of Draco’s mouth. Draco kissed him back just as hungrily, one hand pressing against Harry’s back, grinding him into Draco’s body, and his other hand alternating between caressing the back of Harry’s neck and gripping his hair. 

They had originally come up to the loft so that Draco could show Harry some sheet music which he’d composed. Only the sticky heat had led to Draco unbuttoning his shirt, and because Harry didn’t think it was fair for Draco to tease him like that, he’d completely shed his t-shirt. 

It had barely taken them seconds to forget their search for sheet music and become wrapped up in one another instead. Harry’s hands found Draco’s shoulders and pushed the crisp material down his arms until Draco’s shirt fluttered to the floor. 

Harry could feel Draco’s erection pressing into him, and his own prick was rapidly growing hard. 

“Draco,” Harry urged breathlessly, and his eyes fluttered shut as Draco’s mouth began to suck at the sensitive skin on his neck. “Please…”

Draco’s hand left Harry’s back, and travelled round to the waistband of Harry’s shorts.

“May I?” Draco asked softly, his breath tickling Harry’s skin. 

Harry nodded. “Please.”

Draco’s hand slipped lower, sliding below his shorts and boxers until his fingers reached Harry’s cock. Harry let out a gasp as Draco’s fingers brushed against his prick, and his breath hitched when those fingers curled around his length. 

“Lower your shorts for me, Darling,” Draco said hotly into Harry’s ear. 

Harry’s fingers trembled in excitement as he lowered his shorts down his thighs. Draco started to stroke Harry then, his pace almost torturously slow. Harry was glad for it though, as he was already close and it would have been embarrassing to come almost instantly. 

He bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he felt the pressure building. When Draco’s mouth began to caress Harry’s neck again, Harry couldn’t stop himself. He bucked his hips as he came, fucking into Draco’s fist until he was entirely spent. 

He was grateful that Draco was there to lean on, otherwise he was sure his legs would have given way by now. He’d never come by someone else’s hand before, and though the sensations were the same, the mental awareness it was someone else only made his orgasm more intense. 

Draco pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his fingers clean, and then tucked them beneath Harry’s chin to tilt his face up. Draco smiled fondly down at him. 

“You look utterly ravished; it’s beautiful,” Draco said. “And I was the one to do it to you.”

“You can ravish me as often as you like,” Harry said softly. He reached his arms up to hook around the back of Draco’s neck and tugged him closer until their lips were inches apart. “You can try again now, if you like.”

Draco smirked, and claimed Harry’s lips once more.

**xXx**

“Come on, it’s not much further to go,” Draco said, striding ahead of Harry confidently.

Harry groaned. “Can’t we just stop here?”

Draco had brought Harry on a hike into the hills where he promised stunning scenery. Harry had been excited to go, and as he considered himself fit the idea of a hike wasn’t off-putting in the slightest. It was only when Harry remembered that they were in Italy, and that the weather was getting hotter day-by-day, that the hike became far less appealing. Walking up hill was noticeably more exhausting when it was done in scorching temperatures. 

“No stopping until we’re at the top,” Draco called back. “You can rest if you want; I’ll wait for you at the end.” He looked back and shot Harry a satisfied grin. 

Just to make a point, Harry spurred himself on and sped up until his pace matched Draco’s. He certainly wasn’t going to give Draco the impression he couldn’t handle a simple hike. Harry was sweating and panting by the time they reached the top, but he’d also run the last few metres so that he could get there before Draco.

“Now who’s the slowcoach?” Harry teased, sticking out his tongue. 

“Stop being a brat and turn around,” Draco said, dumping his rucksack on the ground. 

Harry dropped his own bag before doing as Draco said, and immediately gasped when he saw the view. From this high on the hill he could see the entirely of Lake Como and its sparkling, deep blue waters surrounded by tall trees covered in lush green trees. A pretty terracotta villages were dotted around the lake. 

It was one of the most beautiful views that Harry had ever seen, and his heart soared at the sight. 

Draco pressed behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s stomach and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Draco said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Harry’s neck. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Harry agreed. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He smiled, but his smile quickly faded when he realised he’d only get to spend a few more days left to experience things like this. 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, tightening his hold around Harry as though he never wanted to let him go. 

“I don’t want to go home,” Harry said quietly. “I want everyday to be like this, but I have to go back to England and my crappy life there.”

Draco was pensieve for a moment. “Well let’s make the most of the time we have while you’re still here. I’m going to make sure that you’re happy for every last moment you’re here.”

**xXx**

Harry arched up against Draco, writhing in pleasure as Draco’s mouth trailed hot kisses down his neck. Draco had one hand pinning Harry’s wrists above his head, and the other stroking him with a teasing slowness.

“Yes, more, _more_,” Harry moaned, feeling his cock throb in Draco’s grasp. “Please…”

Draco tutted, his breath tickling Harry’s skin. “You’re such a needy little thing. I wonder how long I can tease you until you’re begging me to let you come; not long, I’d wager.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as Draco swiped his thumb over Harry’s slit. 

“I-I’ll beg you to let me come, now. And I want you to come too. I want to touch your cock, Draco, please. I want to suck it.”

Draco stilled for a moment, before returning to stroking Harry’s erection with a little more force than before. 

“I’ll get myself off just from watching you come, Darling, don’t you worry.”

Harry frowned. In all of their sexual contact so far, Draco had never let Harry touch him. He was happy enough to get Harry off, but shut Harry out when he asked to return the favour. 

“Stop, Draco,” Harry said, and Draco stopped at once. 

He leaned back on his calves, and looked at Harry with a concerned gaze.“What? Am I hurting you?”

Harry shook his head. “I just want to know what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Draco said. 

“But you never let me touch you,” Harry pointed out. “Do you think I won’t be any good? Is that it?”

“Fuck, Harry, of course not!” Draco cried, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just...God, normally I’m a selfish lover so I’ve never had this problem before. It’s just that I don’t want to take advantage of you, or pressure you into something you’re not quite ready for. I keep thinking you’ll go home, meet someone your own age, and regret having your first time with an older man.”

Unable to help himself, Harry rolled his eyes. He sat up, and took Draco’s hands in his own. “You’re only six years older than me, Draco, and I’m hardly a child. I think you can be an arrogant prat, but I quite like that about you, so I don’t need you turning into a gentleman who wants to protect my virtue. I don’t need that. So if I say I want to touch your cock, or I want you to fuck me, then as long as you want it too, don’t say no for my sake.”

Draco was still for a moment, before he sighed and shook his head. “I’ve never been turned on by a speech where I was called an arrogant prat, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. You’re a spitfire, Harry, but I’ll still be careful with you. You can beg me to go faster or harder as much as you like, but I’ll only do that when I think you’re ready. I have very strong willpower, you see, although you’re welcome to try your best to tempt me as I’ll quite enjoy that.”

“So we’re really going to fuck?” Harry asked gleefully. 

Draco smirked, and pushed Harry back onto his back, grasping his knees and pushing them to his chest. 

“Yes, and if you insist on me being my usual self, then I’m going to make sure that I’m the best fuck that you’ll ever have.”

Then Draco lowered his head and swiped his tongue over Harry’s hole. 

Harry let out a surprised cry, fisting his fingers into the bed sheets as Draco licked his rim hungrily. Never could Harry have imagined that having his arse eaten out would feel so good. 

Draco’s tongue jabbed inside him, warm and slick, and more whimpers of pleasures fell from Harry’s lips. His eyes squeezed shut, and his hands found Draco’s hair, pulling at the soft strands.

He could hear Draco shuffling about for something, though his focus remained entirely on eating Harry out, before a slick finger was pushed inside Harry alongside Draco’s tongue. 

Harry had fingered himself before, so the sensation itself wasn’t too strange, but Draco’s fingers were longer than his, and pushed deeper inside him than Harry could ever hope to reach. A second finger slid inside him the other side of Draco’s tongue, just the tip of it, and he used them to hold Harry open as he moved his tongue as deep as he could inside Harry. 

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been so hard in his life, and he wondered if it would be possible to come from just a tongue up his arse. Before he could figure that out, however, Draco’s tongue left him. Harry’s whine of disappointment turned into a yelp of rapture as both of Draco’s fingers pressed deep inside him and hit his prostate, sending jolts of scorching pleasure through him.

“Yes, Draco, more!” Harry cried, writhing on the bed in an attempt to fuck himself on Draco’s fingers. 

Draco complied, sliding in a third finger. Harry could feel his rim stretching more than he was used to, and could feel a subtle burn, but the pleasure from Draco fingering him overruled that. 

“You look so gorgeous, writhing on my fingers,” Draco purred. “I can’t wait to bury my cock inside you. Are you ready for that? Beg me for my cock when you want it.”

“God, you’re an arsehole,” Harry uttered, breath stuttering in his throat as he spoke. “Please fuck me, you arsehole. I want your cock in me now. Please, Draco, please…”

Draco pulled his fingers from Harry’s hole and positioned himself between Harry’s legs. He poured so much lube on his cock that it dripped down onto Harry’s thighs and the bed, but it meant that Draco was able to slide in easily. It still burned, but the slickness and Draco’s slow pace truly helped. 

Harry grasped Draco’s shoulders and threw his head back as Draco bottomed out. Harry felt so full, and so _connected_ to Draco in that moment. He didn’t want it to end. __

_ _Draco allowed Harry a few moments to adjust to the sensation before he finally began to move, pulling out and thrusting back in at a gentle pace, and managing to hit Harry’s prostate every time._ _

_ _“Don’t touch yourself yet,” Draco said as Harry dropped a hand to stroke himself. “I don’t want you coming until you’re begging me for it.”_ _

_ _Harry was going to make a comment about Draco truly being a selfish lover, but then he gave Harry’s prostate a particularly hard nail, and Harry didn’t care how selfish Draco was so long as he could make Harry feel as good as he did. _ _

_ _The pace was beginning to get almost torturingly slow, and no matter how much Harry urged Draco to fuck him harder, true to his word, Draco remained at the steady pace. _ _

_ _“Draco…” Harry whined, feeling like his body was about to combust with pleasure. “I want...I need...please, more! Just fuck me harder, or let me come! Please, please-”_ _

_ _His words dissolved into a cry of pleasure as Draco began to speed up his thrusts, while his hand dropped to Harry’s aching length. _ _

_ _“I’m going to be the one to make you come,” Draco said. “Come for me, Darling, come for me.”_ _

_ _Harry was almost sobbing in pleasure by that point, and his orgasm was so strong that his whole body was shaking from the force of it. He could feel himself tighten around Draco’s cock inside him, and finally Draco lost control. He let out a string of gasps as he came, pumping his hips in short, hard bursts as he released inside of Harry. _ _

_ _Draco kissed Harry hard as he gingerly pulled out of Harry, though they were both too exhausted to do much more than simply move their mouths lazily against one another’s. When their kiss broke, Draco rested his sweaty forehead against Harry’s for a moment before pulling back. _ _

_ _Harry was too worn out to move, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, and his limbs still trembling. When Draco laid down beside him, and pulled Harry into arms, it wasn’t long before Harry found himself falling into a satisfied sleep._ _

_ __ _

**xXx**

Harry lightly strummed the guitar, surprised he was even able to play with Draco distracting him as he was.

It was already enough that Harry had lost his virginity to Draco the night previous. He could still feel Draco inside him, and could remember the sweet, salty taste of Draco’s lips, and the softness of his hair. 

Now Draco was seducing him again, without even trying. 

They were finally playing music together, but Harry couldn’t have guessed he’d have such a strong reaction to watching Draco play the piano. But here Harry was, half-hard and utterly transfixed. 

Draco was entirely focused on the music, his face serene and calm. His long fingers moved deftly across the ivory keys--fingers that had brought Harry to new heights of pleasure--and the tune he was playing was utterly enchanting. It was a piece perfectly suited to be the backdrop of a glorious, magical, fantasy world, and Draco had chosen it because he said he knew Harry would like it. 

Draco had also said he thought the piece was too whimsical for his own taste, but he was playing perfectly despite giving Harry the sheet music. 

Harry was drawn out of his reverie when Draco stopped playing at once, and for a moment Harry thought he must have been off-key as a result of focusing on Draco too much. Draco wasn’t looking at Harry though, and was instead sat as still as a marble statue at the piano, fingers still hovering over the keys.

“Draco?” Harry prompted, knocking Draco out of his stupor. 

“Sorry, I just...I need a break,” Draco said quietly, still not looking at Harry. “I can feel a migraine coming on, and think it’s best if I go and lay down.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said, frowning. Draco was acting strange, but Harry supposed he couldn’t fault him if he wasn’t feeling well. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Draco stood up without a word and strode towards the door, pausing to finally look at Harry.

“You’re a talented musician, Harry, don’t let that go to waste,” Draco said, and then he was gone.

**xXx**

“Hi,” Harry said, leaning against the doorframe which connected his room to Draco’s.

Draco hadn’t left his room all morning, and Harry was getting both bored and lonely. He didn’t know how long migraines were supposed to last, but it had been twenty-four hours now and he couldn’t imagine a headache lasting that long. 

“Hey,” Draco murmured, only sparing Harry a brief glance before he turned back to his desk. “I apologise for being rude, but my thesis is due soon and I really can’t spare any time. I’ve already spent too much time _not_ working on it.”

“Oh,” Harry said dejectedly. “Can I sit with you? I’ll read my book and be quiet.”

“No, I can’t afford any distractions,” Draco muttered. “It’s a nice day, so why don’t you go and ready outside by the pool? Or go and spend time with the butler? If I get on enough with my work I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay,” Harry said, hoping he didn’t sound too hurt. What was he supposed to say though? Draco’s thesis was very important, and Harry couldn’t distract Draco from his work. The rejection still stung though, even if it was for an important reason. “I’ll maybe see you later, then.”

Draco grunted in response, and Harry left with a pit of sadness settling in his stomach.

**xXx**

Harry didn’t see Draco that evening, and at breakfast Narcissa announced that Draco had gone to Milan for some important research, and passed on his apologies for not being there.

Nausea bubbled in Harry’s stomach, and he couldn’t face eating his breakfast. It didn’t even smell delicious like it usually did, and Harry just pushed his fruit around his plate with his fork to make it look like he was at least trying to eat. 

He would be returning home the following afternoon, and it truly hurt that Draco had disappeared without a word to Harry. Harry had believed Draco’s excuses about having a migraine, and having to do his work, but now it just seemed like Draco was avoiding him altogether. 

Harry didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Maybe he’d been awful in bed and completely put Draco off him. Or maybe Draco had never been that into Harry anyway, and only slept with him out of pity but didn’t want to deal with him anymore. 

Tears stung at Harry’s eyes, and he swiped them away angrily before anyone could notice. The Dursleys, of course, paid him no attention, but he noticed Narcissa looking at him with a concerned expression. 

Harry forced a smile and took a bite of his peach, even though it tasted sour in his mouth. He decided to excuse himself from breakfast early, and as he left he saw Narcissa beckoning Dobby to her. 

Dobby found Harry a few minutes later, and offered to take Harry to the lake for the day. Harry was grateful that there was at least one Malfoy looking out for him.

**xXx**

Draco wasn’t at the farewell dinner either, apparently caught up in Milan.

Lucius made an announcement that the Malfoy corporation and Grunnings had settled on their business terms and officially formed a partnership. Vernon and Petunia looked both pleased and smug, and neither of them noticed the wicked gleam in Lucius’ eyes. 

Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be amused by the idea of his uncle getting ripped off. Draco had promised to make Harry’s last days in Italy meaningful and happy, and instead he had left Harry feeling utterly miserable. 

If Harry could point out something he’d done wrong then he wouldn’t have minded so much that Draco was upset with him, but Harry didn’t think he’d done anything wrong at all. The only thing Harry could think was that Draco had only ever considered Harry a casual fling and was annoyed at Harry getting too attached. 

That thought annoyed Harry, because Draco had given so much attention to Harry and made him feel special. Throwing Harry away at the end made him feel like Draco had just been playing with him, the same way his father was playing with Vernon. 

Even with that theory, Harry still couldn’t bring himself to be angry with Draco. Harry’s hurt was entirely rooted in sadness, and made his heart ache. The loss of Draco was heavy on his very soul, and he didn’t know how he’d fallen in love with Draco without realising. 

Because surely he couldn’t _not_ love Draco, the way his heart had broken. 

Harry couldn’t even pretend to be happy for his aunt and uncle, and snuck out of the room without being noticed. Being around happy people wasn’t something Harry could handle right now. 

He bypassed his room and went straight into Draco’s, and threw himself onto Draco’s bed. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the cedar tang of Draco’s cologne. The bed smelled just like Draco, and it was comforting. He closed his eyes and hugged Draco’s pillow close to him. If he pretended hard enough, it was like Draco was really there with him. 

And for the first time in a long while, Harry cried himself to sleep.

**xXx**

Harry had never felt so miserable in his life, which was saying a lot as he hadn’t had a particularly happy life.

Dobby was loading their luggage into the boot of the car, while Petunia and Vernon tutted and tapped their feet impatiently, while refusing to lift a finger to help. 

Despite everything with Draco, Harry still didn’t want to return to England. He wanted to stay and at least fight for Draco, but he was going to be taken away without even a chance to do that. Draco had been wrenched from his fingers and he’d never even been able to try and save what he had.

Dobby put the last suitcase in the boot of the car, and Harry felt like there was an hourglass counting down to his fate, and the last grain of sand had finally fallen. His heart felt heavy, and his legs were like lead as he dragged himself over to the car miserably. 

“Stop!”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice, and he turned around to see Draco cycling furiously towards them. Draco jumped off the bike before it had even come to a full stop, sending the bike crashing into a tree. 

Draco ignored it, running towards Harry and drawing him into his arms. Harry melted against the warm body as Draco kissed him soundly. Draco grasped him tightly as though he was afraid to ever let Harry go, and Harry realised just how much he loved being in Draco’s arms. 

He let out a sound that was a half-sob, half-laugh, and rested his head on Draco’s shoulders. He clutched at Draco’s back tightly, not wanting to let Draco disappear again. 

“I’m sorry I was an arsehole,” Draco said softly. “I couldn’t handle the thought of you leaving so I cut myself off thinking it would be easier, but I’ve never been so unhappy in my life.”

“You and me both,” Harry said, raising his watery gaze to meet Draco’s. 

Vernon cleared his throat impatiently behind them.

“I have to-” Harry began, but Draco cut him off before he could finish. 

“I can’t let you go back and waste your life with those awful cretins for call relatives. You’re so talented, and you deserve to have the world. I can give you that, Harry, if you stay with me. I know I’m being selfish wanting you to stay, but I also know how much better your life will be if you do.” 

Harry looked back at his scowling aunt and uncle, then back at Draco’s beaming, hopeful face, and the terracotta villa behind him which gleamed in the sunlight. 

“Yes! Yes, I want to stay!” Harry cried, kissing Draco once more. 

He didn’t know what he had to expect making such a decision on a whim, but with Draco by his side, it could only be a good thing.

**Epilogue**

Harry squinted against the sun, raising a hand to shield his eyes as he looked over the sparkling water at the boat slowly coming towards them. The boat was going to take them from mainland Greece to Skiathos, the first of their stops on their tour of the Greek islands.

Draco stood at Harry’s side, holding his hand. He wore a large white sun-hat which clashed with his hair, but shielded his eyes from the sun. Harry had asked if he could borrow it, but Draco told him he should have brought his own. 

Harry couldn’t believe he was so deeply in love with such a prick, but love him he did. 

Draco was writing a new research paper on homosexuality in Ancient Greece, and Harry played guitar in Greek pubs partially for money, but mainly for fun. Their lives were their own, and they were both doing the things that they loved. 

Harry could have never imagined being so happy or free, but Draco--stubborn, arrogant, snobby Draco--had brought such glorious light to Harry’s life. 

“What?” Draco said, noticing Harry smiling at him like a lovestruck fool. 

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” Harry said, squeezing Draco’s hand. 

Draco squeezed back. “I love you, too.” The boat whistled as it pulled up to the dock. “Ready for the next part of our journey?”

Harry grinned. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. You can leave comments here, at LiveJournal or Tumblr! ♥


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